


I Don’t Want you to Hide.

by SinaMariaRose



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Dark Stiles Stilinski, Flash Forward, Getting Back Together, I Don't Even Know, Light BDSM, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Nogitsune (Teen Wolf) is a Little Shit, Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Non-Linear Narrative, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Stiles Stilinski is Pushed Out of the Pack, Teasing, Writing Exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27192100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinaMariaRose/pseuds/SinaMariaRose
Summary: It’s been awhile since they’ve agreed to this, and since then the Nogitsune had been silent. A dark, brooding presence at the back of Stiles’ mind: very different from their first ride in his body. They had been angry back then, angry and desperate and half starved: the two of them wrestling for the ropes on Stiles’ body.This wasn’t Stiles’ body anymore, though. It was theirs— his and the Nogitsune’s—and yet the Fox seemed content to watch in silence.
Relationships: Nogitsune & Stiles Stilinski, Nogitsune/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 5
Kudos: 153





	I Don’t Want you to Hide.

**Author's Note:**

> I, of course, don’t own anything. Also, this has all been a mess of ideas in my head: focusing on just this one, specific scene so don’t expect the full context.

Stiles could feel them lingering, breathing down his neck. They always did that, back when they were stewing in their own hunger and anger. This time was different, though.

This time, the Nogitsune was holding back: observing, watching him with their old eyes. It’s been two weeks since the two agreed on taking eachother back, but they’ve somehow haven’t communicated since.

There was an attempt, on Stiles’ end. Nogitsune ignored him the first six times, but answered on the seventh with the demand of food. Stiles was tired by then, so he didn’t bother fighting against it: just grabbed a safety pin nearby and began slashing his legs.

He didn’t feel the pain, because it simply wasn’t pain after awhile. The black veins running up his arms turned it into an addicting pleasure, and by morning the sheets were clean and his cuts were bandaged.

(Stiles had reluctantly sent a thank you to the fox—his supposed ally—but the Void had only grumbled at him to shut up.)

It didn’t take long for the teenager to realize that the spirit was debating something, internally, with itself. Whatever it was, it was deeply personal to the Fox: something that both terrified and angered them. Stiles didn’t get much more than that before he was shoved away, though noticeably less forceful than the First time they were together.

Distantly, Stiles realized that maybe referring to the time he was possessed by an evil fox demon and forced to kill as “the time they were together”—as if they were a couple—wasn’t exactly the best way to describe it, but it wasn’t like it mattered. The Pack refused to talk about their First time, so it wasn’t like they knew how Stiles choose to call it: how could they know if they never asked?

How could they know that Stiles could barely stand looking at them? How would they understand the deep, aching Hollow where his heart should’ve been? What would they have done, had Stiles told them that his new body was intended for two?

Could they understand, the loneliness he felt in his own body? His mind?

No, they couldn’t. So they didn’t need to know such things.

“I wonder what kind of ex you’d be?” Stiles found himself pondering outloud. He was on his bed, lying spread eagle and peering up at his ceiling. Unlike in real life, this bedroom had glow in the dark stars. Distantly, Stiles wondered if the darkness of Nemeton got to the Fox eventually: maybe that’s why they seemed to be sticking glow in dark things everywhere in this dream state.

A spike of annoyance jabbed his side, and Stiles could feel the tiniest bit of amusement, so he decided to continue on.

“You don’t strike me as the ‘let’s still be friends’ type,” Stiles’ foot started drumming back and forth as the Nogitsune slowly moved forward. He couldn’t see them, but he feel them; the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention. His heart was pumping, and Stiles couldn’t tell if it was from fear or excitement: both seemed like an admission of guilt. Somehow, a step too far then inviting the Nogitsune back in with no intention on ever forcing them out. Through the lump in his throat, Stiles forced himself to keep going: “You’re defiantly the jealous type...are you?”

“Shut up,” The Nogitsune sighed, their voice at the foot of Stiles’ bed. Stiles’ heart skipped a beat, and this time there was no question that it was pure excitement.

A grin on his lips, Stiles pushed on. “You’re defiantly possessive.”

Stiles could almost see the Fox shrug. “What’s ours is ours,” they stated simply.

Unbidden, a single desperate thought sprung up in him.

Am I yours? Would you take me back?

Even the thought was enough to have Stiles cringing, he sounded so pathetic and yet, the teen wanted an answer. Needed one. 

Stiles suddenly froze when a hand placed itself on his foot, drawing the limb that had been rapidly twitching back and forth to a sudden still. The feeling of a claw digging into his sole sent shivers down his spine, and Stiles had to bunch up a fistful of sheets.

“Shut up,” In one fluid movement, the Nogitsune was pulling itself onto Stiles’ bed, crawling their way up the human’s body. Stiles fell silent, staring up the paler, darker version of himself. The two stared at eachother, Stiles awestruck and the Nogitsune once again simply observing. Inevitably, Stiles’ eyes were drawn down to their lips.

Stiles let out a grunt of surprise when the Nogitsune’s clawed hand suddenly shot up: tightly gripping his jaw. A claw tip pressed against his jugular, nonchalant and causal, and Stiles almost surprised himself by the high, needy whine that escaped him.

This seemed to startle the Nogitsune as well, the Fox staring down at him with a rose eyebrow. Stiles flushed, but he barely had any time to be embarrassed when the Nogitsune— somehow still as graceful as ever— jerked the boy’s head towards them, their lips meeting in a crushing, bruising kiss.

Stiles’ toes curled, his world seeming to close in only on them. Tightly gribbing their shirt, Stiles tugged; closing the gap between their bodies. That was the only moment of control the Nogitsune allowed, quickly pinning the boy’s hands above his head.

Stiles whines, but that was quickly swallowed by the Nogitsune as they pushed their full body weight against Stiles’: their bodies were closer than before, but not nearly close enough.

More. Stiles wanted more.

Almost as if the Universe had heard that plead and wanted to punish him for it, a loud ringing suddenly rang out and his fox was already pulling away. 

Stiles surged forward, chasing their lips, only to be pushed back down via the Nogitsune’s hand on their shoulder. 

“Time to wake up, little one,” they purred. “Wouldn’t want to clue in your dogs this early in the game, now would we?”

Stiles stared up at them, confused. His dogs? Stiles didn’t have dogs, his Father was allergic—

Oh. They meant the Pack.

“They wouldn’t be tipped by missing one day,” Stiles murmurs. The Fox only smirks down at him, and before he knew it, Stiles’ twitching hands were trying to grab at them again. Quickly, Stiles hands went back down to the sheets: his fists shaking and sweating as his knuckles turned stark white.

“I’m aware.” 

“You distracted me,” Stiles’ exhaled through his nose, shifting uncomfortably against the tightness in his pants. 

Their grin somehow got bigger and smugger, their eyes dark as they peered down at him from where they were now straddling his waist: a claw tapping against his chest. 

“I’m aware of that, too.”

“You’re an asshole,” Stiles informed them, but that only seemed to make them preen like a peacock.

“Goodbye, little one,” The Nogitsune whispers, placing the palm of their hand against Stiles’ eyes. The teen knew better then to fight this, his eyes sliding close.

Just before his eyes snapped back open into the waking world, where he’d have to deal with a certain “Werewolf” and a supposed Pack that didn’t feel like a Pack, Stiles had just enough time to realize that, once again, the answers he was so close to getting had slipped away from him.

A house divided could never win, and that’s exactly what the two of them were at the moment. The only advantage their side had was the fact that their enemies were just as, if not more so, divided than them.

Next time, Stiles promised himself. Next time, I will get what I want.


End file.
